


Absolution

by Sea_Dukes_Assistant



Category: British Royalty RPF
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Sea Duke is horny af, dude sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28495968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sea_Dukes_Assistant/pseuds/Sea_Dukes_Assistant
Summary: How I got to be in the position I am and also, I have zero patience for (L)CDR Parker.
Relationships: Philip Duke of Edinburgh/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A series of #TheDTFChronicles drabbles that worked out making up a story, set during Sea Duke's Epic Tour of Naval Badassery and Face Hair. It is what has come to be the “change” in myself throughout this nonsense (and the end of all the psychological blocks I’d had since I started writing #The DTF Chronicles, which will occur in Chapter 3. I’ve aptly decided to title this “Absolution,” because I feel, both in this and in actuality, that I’ve finally fully come to grips with my unexpected feels for another man (although a MUCH YOUNGER version of himself) and as I mentioned, became free of all the psychological blocks and baggage that came along with it. Two years to get to that point.
> 
> Based on the scene of The Crown where that reporter lady ruins everybody’s good time on Britannia and asks hella personal questions.

It’s hard for me to explain exactly why, but I didn’t get an entirely good vibe from this particular journalist…I expect it had something to do with her having followed us and the look she’d been giving my boss throughout his speech. What I found more unnerving was that LCDR Parker seemed hell-bent on playing “matchmaker,” he himself having no issue with mooring his ship in foreign ports. But being “outranked,” despite my position, by two officers there was little I could say. LCDR Parker had even informed me of that when I expressed I didn’t think this interview would end well. My guess is he seemed to think that since he’d known Sir longer, he was right and I, the newcomer, was automatically wrong. I can assume this was the reason I was discouraged not to be present during this interview.

He’d been in an usually bad mood that night, didn’t say a word to me at dinner, and I never asked. I actually never heard him say anything to me until I was about to go to sleep, and the phone in my stateroom rang. I sigh, slightly annoyed and thinking a crewmember dialed the wrong number again, and answer.

“ET2,” I say as non-chalantly as possible.

“Is that how they trained you to answer the phone in your Navy?” I facepalm; sometimes I hate the fact that he’s an officer.

“No sir,” I reply, unable to help rolling my eyes.

“What are you doing?” Not a question…officers don’t ask for things.

“Um…,” I hesitate, deciding if I really should be a smartass and tell him I’m on the phone because he called me. “Not sleeping,” I answer, more grumpily that I meant to.

“Get in here,” he orders.

“May I ask why, sir?” If this is meant as an apology, I’m hardly impressed.

“Do I need a reason?” He asks, mildly irritated.

“Well, no, but I’ve been so graciously informed that I don’t know what I’m talking about, and my presence didn’t seem to be in demand earlier this afternoon. I fail to see why it’s needed now.” I’m gonna get chewed out for that one.

There’s an uncomfortably long pause before he repeats his order.

“Aye sir,” I sigh. I hang up and reluctantly put a shirt and pajama pants on, muttering under my breath the entire time about “fucking officers” and how nobody ever listens to me, then make my way toward his room, not giving a flying fuck if anyone sees me or my bald eagle pajama pants (‘MERICA!). In proper naval fashion, I knock three times on his door and wait for permission to enter, which comes almost immediately. I take a seat on the couch and eye the pitcher of what I think is whiskey, but could be scotch, I don’t honestly know but at this point don’t care. I contemplate pouring myself a glass.

Sir sits down in a chair facing me, and pours himself a drink. “I don’t appreciate the snark, but I understand why,” he says before taking a sip.

To some extent, I wonder if he really does. “My apologies if I was out of line, sir. I understand my place with respect to my rank, but not in regard to my position,” I explain, looking him dead in the eye. “I make an honest effort to walk that thin line but in situations like today I feel I can’t win,” I continue. 

“And why is that?” He asks, as if he knows the answer and this question is merely a formality.

“Because, to be blunt, you side with him, always. My hands are tied no matter what. You both outrank me, but he has no respect for my position and I don’t get any backup.”

He says nothing, but takes another sip of his drink.

“I knew that interview was a bad idea. I told him that; he didn’t want to listen. Told me I didn’t know what I was talking about and that my suggestion of being present was unwarranted and I was being a cock-block, which…given the, uh, 'unique’ nature of my duty here is hardly the case. Anyway, I basically was told to fuck off and nothing was said in disagreement to that. And now, here we are,” I make a sweeping, dramatic gesture to emphasize my point.

Sir empties his glass and refills it. “I don’t like admitting this, but you’re right…you should have been there. It would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

I cock my head to the side, curious. “In what way?”

“She asked about things I don’t want to discuss,” he answered matter-of-factly, “brought up…things I try not to think about and move on from.” His glass is empty again in one gulp.

Now it made sense…he wanted me with him because he was hurting. He’d never admit that of course, but nerves had been struck. I suddenly didn’t know what to say…well, I did, but “I tried to tell y'all” wasn’t the best choice of words at the moment. Instead I just go for outright honesty, rather than endure more uncomfortable silence.

“I’m not sure what it is I’m here for, if nothing I advise is going to be taken into consideration. I’m aware that’s not exactly my job, nor do I have this extensive knowledge of how ANY of this works, but I’m NOT stupid. Even if I had been in the room, and able to kick her out when she crossed a line, I’d have gotten shit for that too. It is VERY difficult for me to do my job and be effective if I constantly have to counter this 'good ol’ boy’ dynamic going on.” I sigh exasperatedly, surprised at what just came out of my mouth but also very relieved I got it out.

“Rather hypocritical of you, I think.” I can hear the irritation in his tone. A dig, I suppose, at the fact that I hold an unspoken position beyond “staff.”

“No, no it isn’t, because I know EXACTLY where that line is and I do my level best to not cross it in the course of my actual duty. Never once have I acted inappropriately on this tour, or any other time before this. I can’t say the same for a lot of others on this ship.” I stop myself from dropping names.

“And how do you know that?” He asks, somewhat condescendingly.

“Sir the E-4 Mafia is international, and scuttlebutt travels real damn fast.” I feel immensely satisfied with myself. I may have promoted out of The Mafia, but that don’t mean I don’t pay attention. “All I’m trying to explain, is that I don’t think some see this tour as work, but rather a free party boat. Maybe I’m too serious but to me it’s no different than a deployment…I’m just not having to stand watch and sleep in a space with 50 other dudes. There’s work, and then, unless something comes up, there’s not work, which I think we both know what that is, but sometimes involves me getting blackout drunk due to the shit I put up with.”

Sir’s face contorts in contemplation, and I’m pleased to see that he’s giving my grievance some thought. He gets up from his chair, crosses the room, and removes the remaining parts of his uniform. I’m not sure if I should be taking anything off or not, considering we just had, in my opinion, our first major spat. 

“How long had you been holding that in?” He asks, walking toward me, in nothing but his skivvies.

“Um, since this tour started, honestly,” I try to focus my attention elsewhere, so as to avoid an awkward boner. I know he’s smirking at me though, especially since my ears have gone red, which means he’s succeeded in making me flustered.

I finally pour myself the drink I needed so desperately during that whole debacle. The burn in the back of my throat informs me this is NOT bourbon, and after coughing rather loudly, put my empty glass back down onto the coffee table, and lean back, relieved this mess got sorted out and now I can sleep. Or at least, thought I could sleep. The surprise of Sir having straddled me indicates that I am not doing that anytime soon, though it’s got to be an amusing sight considering he’s almost a foot taller than I am. 

“I enjoy the attention; I was never going to bed her,” he tells me, his voice unusually quiet. 

I look up at him and attempt to give him my best attempt at sage advice. “Unfortunately that kind of attention breeds speculation. Speculation leads to rumors, rumors get published in the tabloids, and then it becomes fact, which means scandal at worst and a mess to deal with at home at best. My advice is to avoid it. There is, however, a different type of attention that nobody knows about and that I don’t think your wife would mind hearing about.” I have to admit, being in this particular position was empowering, even made me feel sexy, and I could feel my confidence level rising (although that wasn’t the only thing rising), and found myself suddenly wanting very badly to be between his legs in a slightly different manner.

Sir cocks his head to the side, smirking slightly. “At what exactly is that?”

“Mine.”


	2. This Man Got Drama. YEET!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sea Duke has had enough of Mike Parker's bullshit and yeets him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At sea, onboard HMY Britannia. I don’t have a silly tropical uniform (which means I’m in just usual service dress whites) and my Naval Face Hair is decidedly less than epic, so I’m the only one in the space with a clean shave.
> 
> Again, based on The Crown.

Inevitably, there are “ugly” parts of my job as Sea Duke’s (fucking) assistant. Sometimes it’s explaining his drunken behavior to his wife, and sometimes…it’s more complicated than that. Today was about to get real damn complicated, as his friend, shipmate, and private secretary had caused a bunch of trouble and needed to be, well, dealt with, for lack of better phrasing. Usually, this sort of stuff is left “in the wardroom” and dealt with amongst the other officers, but this was not your run of the mill Navy ship, and there was a more…political? way of dealing with things. And so, after I unfortunately had to change out of my work pajamas (coveralls), I stood a respectable distance behind His Royal BAMFness, who I could tell was in no way looking forward to dealing with this. I wanted to try to reassure him, but I had no idea of what to say, or if he even wanted to hear it. I figured if anything, I should just keep my mouth shut and let the officers sort their shit out.

“Sir,” His Royal BAMFness’s private secretary begins, inviting himself into the room, “eh, telegram from my lawyer in London. His view is, yes, the newspaper coverage is bad but, it’s not disastrous and, uh, he feels confident it’ll all die down in 48 hours. He thinks we can ride it out.” Mr. Parker nervously taps the document in question, then invites himself to take a seat in the chair to Sir’s left.

“You and I both know that’s wishful thinking,” Sir replies, unamused, “I’ve had my own telegram from London. I hope you’re not going to make this next step difficult for me.” He clears his throat, uncomfortable with the whole situation and the awkwardness of having to fire one of his good friends. No eye contact is made, and he fidgets, obviously not wanting to deal with this in such a manner. I keep quiet, but eye Mr. Parker with suspicion. I swallow hard in an effort to keep my opinion to myself and let Sir deal with this as he sees fit.

Mr. Parker’s facial expression indicates the reality has hit him. “You’ll have my resignation first thing,” he states as he gets up to leave.

“I’ll need it now,” Sir orders, his tone indicating he’s had enough of this bullshit.

After what feels like an eternity of awkward silence and staring, Mr. Parker regains his military bearing, brings himself to standing at attention, and verbally tenders his resignation.

“I hereby offer my resignation…as principal private secretary to the Duke of Edinburgh effective immediately.” His voice hitches more than once. Part of me sympathizes, but more than anything I feel he’s dug his own grave and this is the reward he gets.

“Accepted,” Sir replies. More awkward silence, as Mr. Parker doesn’t immediately move to leave, the gravity of the situation having yet to hit him, I assume. Sir continues his polite yet clear ass-chewing. “You’ve worked for me for long enough; you know the rules…who we are, how it works. There is no room for mistakes, there’s no room for scandal, there is no room for humanity. I think you should probably leave us in Gibraltar. Might I suggest a policy of ‘no comment’ on all accounts and especially no letters.”

Mr. Parker avoids his boss’s eyes and nods. “Yes of course,” he agrees, tremendously uncomfortable with the entire thing, and more so that he’s just been chewed out in front of someone decidedly “less” in status and rank (that’d be me). 

“You will stand at attention when your superior officer addresses you,” I bluntly remind him. Mr. Parker begrudgingly corrects himself. 

Having waited for Sir to add anything else, and hearing nothing, I clear my throat and finally decide to make my opinion known. Despite having less time “on the job” than this guy, I nevertheless have more positional authority. 

“Permission to speak freely, Your Royal Highness,” I request.

“Granted,” Sir answers, not wanting to drag this on but also not wanting to discredit my position in front of the officer he’s just fired.

I take a deep breath before airing my grievance at LCDR Parker. “With respect, sir, it baffles me how you thought this would either a) not affect anyone but you or b) not blow up in our faces. As low ranking as I am, even I am aware that I represent not only who I work for but also the United States Navy. And you, sir, not only represent both the Queen’s husband the Royal Navy, but you’re an officer. Imagine what image that gives your subordinates. I have refrained from sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong but as you’ve seen fit to involve us in whatever the hell it is you were trying to accomplish, whether it was just a stupid decision or trying to prove the size of your dick I can’t say, but I can honestly say that I expect more of those appointed over me, regardless of the country they serve. Truth be told, you’re lucky I wasn’t told to inspect you before hand, because with your shirt in that condition I would not have passed you.” I eye him up and down to illustrate my point.

Mr. Parker continues being uncomfortable, and also seems a bit angry at being told off by a 2nd Class Petty Officer. Quite frankly I don’t care. Once he’s sure neither myself nor Sea Duke have anything else to say, he leaves in rather an awkward hurry.

At this point, I have no idea what do to with myself. I was asked to be in the room more as a witness than anything, but now I’m not sure if I should leave or try to offer some sort of commiseration. I become hyper aware of just how dry my mouth has become. Honestly, I’d never seen Sir in an actual Bad Mood, only the usual cantankerous ranting which was more humorous than scathing, and I felt like if I moved, I’d get rebuked for something. I didn’t even breathe loudly!

Sir sighs and rubs his face, and I decide it might be best if I leave. I make my way to the door, feeling all kinds of second hand awkwardness.

“Sit,” I hear Sir order from behind.

I do so, opting for, ironically, the same spot LCDR Parker had been a few minutes ago. It seemed a god spot; Sir could have his space and I didn’t feel like I was dangerously close to an angry hive of bees. I wish I at least had some water to drink.

“I, uh, apologize if I overstepped my boundaries,” I say quietly.

Sir says nothing, but continues trying to rub the tension and stress out of his head.

“Uh, with regard to ‘no room for humanity,’ did…did you mean…” I struggle trying to explain exactly what it is I need clarification on.

“That has nothing to do with you,” he says matter of factly, “don’t mistake his stupid decision for anything you’re doing.”

“Noted. But what about…about…you know…the other stuff…” My heart feels like it’s gonna explode out my chest.

He sighs again, trying not to get frustrated with me. “What we do is consensual. What he did was not. Do you see the difference?”

“Yes sir,” I answer quietly, slightly embarrassed at my own ignorance.

“Good. Because with all our work being done, this is all just one big pleasure cruise, and I fully intend to take advantage of that,” he looks at me and grins.

It’s safe to say I will definitely be earning my pay on this tour.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Butt stuff but the other way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mental catharsis happens. This was written after the other three, and just fit, so it kinda tied this story together. I had to get into my bourbon to write the dude sex, ‘cause it’s from a perspective I’m not used to, nor have actually done, so it’s based on imagination and *cough* research.

“Can I ask you a question?” Sea Duke asks, his lack of inflection indicating this is more of an “I’m going to ask whether you like it or not,” as is his usual manner. 

I step out of the bathroom, having just dried off from having shower beer.

“K,” I reply, taking one of the last swallows of beer from the can.

“How do you feel about…doing it the other way round?” He doesn’t look up from what I assume is a book about ships that he denies missing.

“Uh…well, I…haven’t exactly been expecting that to happen but…um…”

“Why not?” Now he looks up from his book.

“Well, it’s not something I figured you’d want to do and…I’m…” I glance down at myself, then back at him “…not exactly anyone’s dream fuck. I’m short, for one thing –”

“Christ it’s like you don’t bloody listen to anything I tell you,” Sir sighs, closing his book and placing it on the bedside table. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.”

“Wait…you’re…you’re ok with that?” I ask, a bit surprised. Knowing how “alpha” he can be, I didn’t think he’d be down for that.

“Well,” he begins, his tone calmer now, “it would take some getting used to, and it wouldn’t be the first time. It would, however, be the first time I wanted it to happen.”

My eye get wide as I pause to process that. “OOOOHHH you mean the finger in the butt check!” I finish my beer, proud of myself for having got the reference. I toss the empty can in the trash, and finally get in bed, instead of standing there buck naked like an idiot. “I mean, I have thought about it, but I never had the courage to ask. Also, I’ve…never done that with anyone so…I guess you’d be the first for that too.” I feel my ears get hot as I tell him the last part.

“Right well I hadn’t until I was 26 and even then she’d never done it so she couldn’t tell if I was shit or not.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“Point is you’ll only be terrible if you actively think you’re terrible. From what I can tell given my experience, it either is good or it’s not, and if it’s not then you’re doing it wrong and should probably just wank. Nobody needs to get stitches up there. And judging by the reactions I got from you the first time, I got lucky.” 

I can’t help but smile as I remember that night; that’s not the only reaction I was having though. “If you’re up for it, I am,” I tell him, tongue firmly in cheek.

Sea Duke lays flat on his back, making room for me between his legs, and I roll on to him, trying to hide how excited I really am. He’s not yet hard, which is slightly unfortunate, as I’ve never had to get him that way and honestly I don’t quite know what to do with myself. This embarrassment doesn’t last long, thankfully, as the natural instinct kicks on and I start grinding against him and OH MY GOD MY NERVES ARE ON FIRE. Between that and his reactions it is gonna be a hell of a challenge for me to keep from having an early ending. I feel chills make their way all up my right side, from my spine to my arm, and some of the muscles twitch. It’s not long before I’m overwhelmed and, slowly exhaling, I stop moving.

“What’s wrong?” Sir asks, concerned.

“It’s…it’s a lot,” I try to explain, putting my weight on my left hand and shake my right arm a few times, trying to get the tingling to stop. 

“Well what you were doing did feel fucking amazing so I’m not surprised.”

I lower myself so I’m resting on my forearms, my forehead resting against his shoulder, trying to re-calibrate both my brain and my breathing. “Fuck yeah it did,” I sigh. “Sorry…just…gimme a minute…”

“You don’t need to apologize for your quirks,” he tells me matter-of-factly. “In fact now that I’m used to them I find them rather endearing. And good or bad it keeps things interesting.”

I don’t deserve him. The fact that he’s not upset, or acting impatient with me, because our sexytimes got paused because of my faulty wiring means more than I ca find the words for. Neither am I bothered that he’s kept his hands off me, as the added sensation, although appreciated, is not something I could’ve have handled. What he has become aware of, either because I tell him or on his own, is both more than I could ask for and more than I expected. In this specific moment, I feel calm, wanted, and safe with him. 

“Which of us last had the, uh, the…the…”

Sea Duke snickers. “You can’t remember?”

“No,” I answer, trying not to laugh. 

I hear him open the drawer on his bedside table, and soon he taps my arm with the bottle. I sit up and take it from him, and, with raised eyebrows and a big dumb grin on my face, raise it in a “toast” to him.

“Thank you for once again managing my brain cells.”

That gets a smirk from him, and once again I’m pleased as fuck with myself. I fling the covers off us and try to get in a reasonably comfortable position. I feel about as graceful as a newborn hoss, trying to balance sitting with my legs tucked under me while also trying not to stress my ACL too much (it’s been stretched out, obviously, but not LIKE THAT). If I do look totally fucking ridiculous, Sea Duke doesn’t say so, which I very much appreciate. 

The, uh, prep work is mentally arduous, partly because it’s not something I ever imagined doing, nor is it a turn on. Also because I am trying to more a lot at once, such as paying attention to his reactions, trying to mimic how he does it because I have fuck all experience, and also manhandling his 8″ gun because dammit he needs something to enjoy during this.

After what feels like forever, I ask, “You uh, ready for…”

Sea Duke takes a deep breath before telling me that he is, and I’m thankful that he knows what to expect, having been (literally) in my position so many times and knowing How This Works. 

“Please tell me if it doesn’t feel right,” I tell him, knowing how stubborn he can be. The last thing I want is to hurt him, for obvious reasons. I lean forward a bit, once again resting on my hands, and slowly slide in. In an effort to maintain concentration (because I know my nerves are gonna go crazy again), I stare at a random spot on the headboard and try to focus more on my breathing. “God…DAMN,” I gasp, my eyes wide. AAAALLLL THE SENSATION, ALL AT ONCE. My right hand clenches into a fist (as expected). It’s very intense, but is the second best feeling of my lifes. Admittedly, some of the rush of endorphins is the fact that he’s letting me do this in the first place, so it’s like rainbows in my soul AND my dick. I stay still, waiting until Sea Duke feels comfortable enough, which gives me another mental break to recalibrate my mind. I feel his hands along my sides, and I calm down, and am able to unclench my fist.

“Do you know, I can’t tell that you’re short from this angle.” Sir’s tone is dead serious, but he has that smirk on his face that both turns me on and comforts me at the same time. My confidence is renewed. I vow to myself to make this as good for him as I can. I take a deep breath, and begin thrusting, slowly, trying to find the right angle. Thankfully, this doesn’t take long and I’m rewarded with possibly the most sexiest sound he’s ever made. I can’t help but smile stupidly, feeling real pleased myself. 

“Smug bastard,” Sea Duke jokes.

“Fuckin’ right,” I reply, laughing a little.

I pick up my pace, basking not only in my own glory but the sight (and sounds) of him enjoying this, enjoying ME, and also trying to concentrate more of my breathing than how good it feels. I don’t want to finish before he does, but if it happens, well, I tried. Each time I feel close I stop, then start slow again, making a conscious effort to try things my hips and not do just the “in-out” motion. Unfortunately, it’s over for me sooner than it is for him, despite my efforts. My vision blurs a bit as I hit my peak and bury the length of the 5″ gun inside him. Once again, I lean forward, spent and resting my forehead on his chest.

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling I’ve disappointed him somehow.

“Devin, we’re not making porn. It happens.” I feel silly, but he’s right, especially as it’s my first time. I slowly pull out. I also feel him nibbling my ear, “Besides, I know you know how to use your mouth.”

Dammit he knows how to rile me up. 

I take him into my mouth, doing all the things I know he likes, and he doesn’t last long afterwards. I willingly accept the reward for my efforts, looking him in the eye as I do so, before taking my place back beside him in bed.

“Look at me,” Sea Duke demands.

I do.

“Don’t you dare feel bad about yourself. I had no expectations; I wanted you to do it. You did. There will be a next time.” He pulls me close to him, and it’s not long before I fall asleep, not due to exhaustion, but peace.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavily inspired by "Can't Hear You Now" by Mike Shinoda, specifically the lines:
> 
> Some days it doesn’t take much to bring me down  
> Some days I’m struggling for control
> 
> So you can call ‘til your voice is running out,  
> But I can’t hear you now, I can’t hear you now  
> I’m somewhere far away where you can’t bring me down,  
> So I can’t hear you now, I can’t hear you now

It’s been a strange journey. Looking back, it was as if I’d been running through a series of unofficial promotions until today, when I got my first official one. I’d started off as kind of a “junior” in position to CDR Parker, assisting with some of the more menial tasks…more of a “paper pusher” while he took care of Sea Duke’s schedule and other major priorities. It wasn’t terrible; though it admittedly came with less perks than I enjoy now (take that how you want). After a while, I don’t recall how long, maybe a few months, I’d gradually been given more responsibility. In retrospect, perhaps that was in correlation with the bond that’d been forming between Sir and I…one that has since become more than I certainly expected, and I think it surprised him too (though he hasn’t said).

Shit got real during the tour we’d gone on for the Olympics in Australia. Though CDR Parker had been Sea Duke’s BFF, even I could tell he’d consistently been fucking up (and just….fucking, tbh). I tried my best to stay out of it, but this did lead to some tension between he and I. Naturally this made Sir look bad, and caused some stress between he and the Mrs., though that was partially due to the press. Anyway, Sea Duke had finally had enough and yeeted CDR Parker, replacing him with me, literally right in from of him. It was the most awkward moment in my life since the morning after I’d sucked him off for the first time. I about died. I was mortified. And scared, because I had no clue what the hell this meant for me. I may have actually stopped breathing when Sir sprung that news on us. 

Despite CDR Parker…fucking…and Sea Duke inevitably being disgruntled and homesick (though he’d never admit it), it was a successful tour. The last half was my personal favorite, because we had fuck all left to do but go the fuck home, and that gave everyone a chance to relax. I needed it especially, after being thrown into a pure trial-by-fire into being a royal’s private secretary/equerry/whatever it is I do (I still don’t know wtf my job title is) while also dealing with the beginnings of a relationship with a man, let alone a man who I also worked for.

Now we’re home, and although it’s nice to be back, I admit I feel some emptiness. I had no one greeting me on the tarmac. Nobody was there to tell me they were happy to see me, to tell me I’d done a good job, to give me a hug. Understandably, Sir spent time with his family; I don’t hold that against him. But as is expected with the way my mind works sometimes, I started to get a bit anxious that whatever it is going on between us, that it was over…he just didn’t say it. 

So once again I’m stuck in a hard place mentally as I celebrate with a well-deserved shower beer, trying to shut the negative voice up but also riding the high that comes with a job well done. It seemed like the negative voice was winning though, as I felt my lip quiver, which I promptly responding to with strange facial contortions to put a stop to that, before taking another drink of my beer.

“Ah, so this is where you’ve run off to.”

I twitch a little at the sudden sound of Sea Duke’s voice, not to mention his presence in my bathroom butt ass neked. I couldn’t help but stare blankly at him as he got into the shower with me, trying to process what was happening.

“I don’t know you’re standing there gawking at me, you’ve seen it before,” he says, reaching for my beer. He takes a rather large swig before giving it back to me. 

“I…I thought you’d be with the Queen tonight…” I explain.

“And I will be,” he tells me as he gets closer to me.

Before I can respond, he places his hands on my cheeks (ON MY FACE, DANELLE) and stares me right in the eyes.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, before giving me a deep, this-says-more-than-words-can type of kiss.

Well. That certainly shut the negative voice the fuck up!

“Hurry up and finish that,” he says, pointing at my beer, “I’d hate for it to get hot while I thank you properly.” A smack on my ass and his “officer smirk” later, and I find myself shotgunning my beer, basking in my own badassery and the glorious thought of telling Dickquerry to “suck it.”

I’ve made it.


End file.
